Wednesday, 10 September 1879

Blanc flatters me so. According to him there are not many like me, he unearths the historical notes I take with the help of the ancients, the remarks I add to them, then a certain notebook on Roman history and then a work on the Russian dynasties, even a note penciled on the wall in a dark corner, on the first demagogue Menestheus! And as I am up to date on everything, on politics and on the men of the day, he congratulates me with his naval bluntness. One would say the rest of the universe is ignorant and stupid, I speak of women; he is astonished that I know a little history and literature. It is true that I know nothing as one knows at School, I read and retain what strikes me.
All the same while fearing flattery it seems to me that the friend of the Deceased appreciates me in my least details. If there were a dozen like him my gospel would prosper.
But we know no one.
Uncle Lautrec has arrived, he will spend some time with us.
I do not know if I spoke to you of a marriage project between him and Dina.
He was married to Grand-papa's sister, by whom he had several children but only two survive: the unmarried Count Alexandre and the Marquise Montecuculi de Merano who has a crowd of children and who is very rich having inherited from an old relative, the Marquis de Merano. There are even stories about this. This idea came to the old uncle to make Dina a young widow, the idea is charming... Dina is a beautiful girl of twenty-four, when she was nineteen I believed she was already faded, but I was only fifteen... Very young she was tired, pale, green, ugly, at present with a little dress, though without rouge, she can make an impression and appear very nice. Her complexion itself has become very white and slightly pink although the body remained a dark and earthy color inexplicable in the presence of that blondest of blonde hair, greenish blonde at the temples and golden at the end of the braids. Her hair falls below her knees but there is very little of it; on her head and down to her shoulders it is still thick but the rest of the braids is pitiful, which she supplements by mixing in long false pieces and the whole together forms an astonishing forest... It is even what revolts my silly honesty when one admires this hair, I believe I could not bear all these compliments knowing that three-quarters of this beauty is not legitimate, for, between us, if she let only her own hair hang down one would mock it, it would be rat's tails. All the same, I say it only here and I would take care not to say it to anyone in the world, but I have scruples.
I would not wish to deliver this girl to this old man. He must be seventy years old... but he could live ten years more. But there is no other match... and one must indeed marry.
Hecht and Blanc in the evening. Blanc plays piquet and feels somewhat crestfallen by the attention given to Hecht. One stayed until one o'clock, then everyone was hungry, one supped and the friend of Gambetta did not leave until two o'clock with the friend of Paul de Cassagnac.